The Ten Transgressions of Scott Summers
by dilly r
Summary: Professor Xavier's molding of Scott Summers into the leader of the XMen bears bitter fruit.


**Author's Notes:** This story is not told in chronological order. Each number signifies when the scene following took place in relation to the other scenes, 1 taking place first and 11 taking place last.  
**Disclaimer:** X-Men does not belong to me, this is merely fan fiction.

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**The Ten Transgressions of Scott Summers**  
_by dilly r_

**-10-**

Scott felt an unexpected flash of emotion when he saw Magneto wilt to the floor, revealed finally as an old and bitter man. A laugh crawled out of the old man's throat when Scott approached him. 

"I wonder which one of us has won. I would love to ponder it, had I the time." 

"I'm asking you again: What are you doing here? Answer me." 

"Again I answer: Charles had me here, unbeknownst to you, to help him through his great loss." 

He knelt next to Magneto and felt the back of his neck, trying to be sure that his fall had not broken any important bones as well as he could in the field. 

"I'm taking you to the med lab." 

"No." Magneto pulled on the last reserves of his energy and pressed the heel of his palm into the Cyclops' chest when he leaned over him. "Kill a man, then repent by taking him to die in a hospital. He did train you well, didn't he?" 

Scott could have easily resisted Magneto's push, but he did not. "Tell me where you took him and I'll make sure your wounds are treated." 

"Do you know nothing of my style, you stupid boy? I did not kidnap your precious Professor. I did not kill him. But I have no qualms with killing you." He lifted up his wax paper thin hand and, before Scott could react, something heavy and hard slammed into his back. 

When Logan found Scott, he was lying on his side next to the man he had killed and muttering. 

"Magneto got him. Magneto got him. I was too late. Magneto got him." 

**-1-**

The first time Scott saw Xavier's mansion, his life changed. Sure, he'd seen houses like that. Even been taken in by a couple of nice, happy, normal would-be adoptive parents. But, he'd never belonged in any of those places. By the time he was sixteen, he was pretty damned sure that he'd only ever belong where cockroaches scuttled on concrete floors with mold peeking up out of the cracks; places where his face was pressed into the hard metal coils of an old mattress filled with the scent of a hundred boys losing their dignity before him. 

Xavier's wheels made little popping sounds on the floorboards where the rubber stuck slightly and he waved his hand as Scott followed him. 

He said, "This is your room," like it was nothing. To Scott, it was everything and he knew he'd spend the rest of his life trying to make it up. 

Scott didn't put these thoughts to words, Xavier already knew, so instead he flew past the professor and dove onto the soft bed, smiling gleefully like a child. 

"I take it that you don't mind your new accommodations," Xavier said, smiling with amusement. 

"This is the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

"Perhaps that is true, Scott." Xavier's tone had become serious, so Scott sat up to listen. "However, with this chance comes responsibility. You are only the first to arrive of a select few mutants I wish to train to become the 'X-Men.' I want to groom you as leader of that group." 

"Me? Why--" 

"I did a peripheral scan of your mind, Scott. I know a good leader when I see one." 

He didn't have time to question further, because a face peeked out from the edge of the door which distracted him from his thoughts and even the professor. 

"Professor?" the red-haired girl asked in a small voice. Xavier turned and smiled at the sight of her. 

"Scott, I'd like you to meet Jean Grey. Jean, this is Scott Summers, the boy I told you about. Come in." 

Jean did as she was told, but every movement was steeped in hesitation. She took small, tiptoeing steps and stopped only when the professor was between them. 

He was instantly curious about her, and he was certain it showed on his face. They were both silent, staring at each other until, finally, she crept toward him. She reached out her hand and brushed his blocky ruby quartz glasses. 

"You could get him nicer sunglasses, Professor." 

Scott felt like he must have turned a very similar shade to his glasses and looked down, but Xavier seemed amused. 

"That is certain to be our first priority, Jean. However, for now, I'm sure he could use a little rest." 

She nodded and craned down, so that Scott would see her face and look up. "It's nice to meet you, Scott." She extended her hand, this time for a handshake. He took her hand, cold and small in his, and shook it. And then she turned and rolled the professor out of the room without another word uttered between them. 

The door closed behind the two of them, leaving Scott alone in his new room. For a moment, he thought he heard her whispering something behind him. With a quick glance over his shoulder he realized he must have been imagining things. 

**-2-**

Magneto, Scott would quickly learn, was someone who came with Xavier. They were like salt and pepper shakers. Really, Scott hadn't meant to listen in on them, but when he'd heard a strange voice in the professor's room, he thought it would be best to see if it was friend or foe. 

At the time, Scott thought that simply listening to the tones of their voices or the words they said would tell him immediately how they felt toward one another, but as the years went by he became less naïve and more uncertain about the nature of their relationship. 

"--new project? Was the girl not powerful enough for you?" 

"This has nothing to do with power, Erik." 

"Ah yes, the high and mighty never stoop so low as to seek power. Who do you think you're fooling, Charles? Not me. He will fail you as she did." 

"Jean did not fail me. She simply was not up to the task at hand." 

There was a rustling sound, and then a thump. "We'll see how well he holds up to 'the task at hand' when he realizes the true nature of your utopian daydream." 

"Why don't you tell him? He's listening at the door." 

Scott blanched and took a step back, but he didn't have time to get away before the door opened, seemingly of its own accord. The two men looked at him, like twin Cheshire cats. 

"Scott," said the professor, gesturing toward the other man, "This is Erik L--." 

"You will call me Magneto." He took a few long, graceful strides toward where Scott was frozen in the hallway. He tilted his head, studying Scott's new visor. "Who affixed this cyclopean atrocity to your face?" 

Scott straightened his back defiantly. "Th-the professor." 

"_Th-the professor?_" He smiled wickedly. "This is to be your mighty leader? He can't even speak properly." 

"Go, Erik," the professor said firmly, apparently losing his patience. 

"Such hospitality. We shall see which one of us is right about you, won't we, Cyclops?" 

Scott said nothing. He merely set his jaw and glared as the man swept away. He waited until the man was long gone to speak but when he began, the professor quickly silenced him. 

"Erik-- Magneto was an old friend. Now, he is an old enemy. If he ever comes near you without me around, do anything in your power to keep him from you. He's very dangerous. Especially for someone of your experience." 

"He didn't _look_ that dangerous. He was just an old--" 

"Am I 'just an old man?'" 

Scott swallowed. "He's a mutant too?" 

"Of course he is. A very powerful and angry mutant." There was a strange look on his face and his voice was strained. He waved his hand before Scott could speak again. "Go to your room. And don't listen in on any other conversations on your way, if you can help it." 

"Yes, Professor," Scott muttered with a bowed head, and he walked quickly to his room. 

**-6-**

What Scott couldn't forget, no matter how hard he tried, was the look on the professor's face when Jean told him. 

The engagement hadn't been a big event or anything like that. It was subtle and slow and expected. A little typical, actually, of romance. They had been sitting under a tree, a blanket full of empty paper plates beneath them and fireworks screeching like hawks above them. He'd leaned over and whispered into her ear. 

"Marry me." 

She looked at him, almost incredulously, then smiled. "It's about time, Scott." 

To which he responded with a kiss so that he would be distracted by the doubts. Because if she married him, Logan wouldn't be a threat anymore, right? And they could get along, right? He was the field leader of the X-Men, after all, and it was his duty to try to get along. Now that Jean was his, he could do that without that fear eating away at his insides. If they were still enemies, it would be Logan's fault, not his. 

They stuffed the paper plates into the picnic basket and made love under that tree and the violent sky. 

That's when he felt it. 

Tapping away at the back of his mind. 

Something familiar that wasn't Jean. Jean's mind so often mingled with his own, especially at times like these, that he didn't even notice it anymore. 

No, it wasn't her. It was the professor. 

When they were finished, Scott felt a little sick, so he lay on the blanket with his nose buried in her hair and tried not to think. 

The next morning, at breakfast, Jean smiled at Scott, then stood. She grabbed his arm and pulled him along. The chattering went silent. 

"I have an announcement to make, since Scott's the quiet one." She winked at him. It reminded Scott, suddenly, of two actors playing the role of dutiful fiancés. Even as her hand curled around his, warming it, the rest of him was freezing. "We're finally engaged." 

Scott didn't hear the congratulations or feel the slaps on his back. His eyes were transfixed on the professor's, and the professor's eyes on his. There was an expression on Xavier's face that Scott had seen directed at him before, but never with such intensity. His face didn't go red, he didn't furrow his brow, he didn't even frown. It was an expression that made Scott shiver with its coldness. Disappointment. Disgust. 

Jealousy? 

**-3-**

"No, Scott. Try it again." 

Scott sighed and slumped his shoulders. "Professor..." But the intercom's buzzing cut off and the sequence began again. 

This was what the professor had called a simple trust exercise. From the control room, Xavier would set things to attack him, anything from lasers to blades to strange robot things. It was called the Danger Room, and at the time, the name was more apt because there were no safety settings. The trust part came from the fact that Scott had broken his visor the day before and was effectively blind. To fight, he had to have instructions given to him through the 'psychic rapport' that the professor was trying to build with him. 

He could handle it, to a point, only opening his eyes when the professor gave him the notion to open his eyes. However, after a while it became confusing. His thoughts intermingled with the professor's and he couldn't tell if it was an impulse from the professor that he should follow or his own irrational impulse. The first few times, he had listened to every impulse, often scorching some unsuspecting wall. Slowly, he was ignoring himself, trusting everything to the professor. 

He was determined not to hear that disappointed voice over the intercom again, no mater how bad the headache was getting. 

_Open your eyes. Close them. Wait... Turn right. Stop. Open your eyes. Close them. Left. Stop. Open. Close. Behind you. Open. Close. Wait. Turn. Stop. Open. Close. W--_

The voice was suddenly shut off as pain ripped through his body. He stood, stunned, not sure what he'd been hit by or even where he'd been hit. He heard the heavy door slide open and Xavier wheel in. His ruby quartz glasses flew onto his face and he was able to open his eyes and see the damage. There was a big metal spike through his right shoulder. He stared down at it, not believing. 

He'd failed the test. 

**-4-**

"Can I see it?" She frowned at the look he gave her. "I am a doctor, you know. Well, almost. I can handle it." 

"All right..." Scott started to pull down his collar to show her, but she reached forward and began to pull upward on the bottom of his shirt. Carefully, he raised both arms. She pulled of his shirt, then peeled away the bandage. 

"It healed up well." She touched it carefully. It was little more than a scar, but sometimes it still hurt. "This is why I don't like the Danger Room." 

"The professor knows what's best." 

"You getting a metal spike through your arm is hardly what's best." 

"I'm helping him add some new safety features. To protect me when I make stupid mistakes like that." 

"Scott." She said his name in that mother's tone he remembered from far back in his past. It's a tone that comforts him. 

"It's true. It was my mistake. I couldn't differentiate his thoughts fro--" 

She put two of her fingers over his lips. That was when he realized just how close they were sitting to one another on his bed. He heard her whispering from the back of his mind, like he had the first day he'd met her. Her voice was sad, desperate. Sometimes it wept and called the name 'Annie' over and over again, but at that moment, it was calling out 'Scott.' 

"I was in the control room with the professor when it happened," she whispered. "For a moment, I thought we'd killed you. And I could feel the pain. Everywhere. I couldn't even tell where you'd been hit because it just hurt everywhere. The thought of losing you... It was the scariest thing I've experienced in a while and I think it's about time that I admit to being in love with you." 

Jean kept her fingers at his mouth, as if afraid to let him speak. He took her hand away from his mouth and held it. It was the first time he'd held her hand and something in him wanted to hold it fiercely, so that she couldn't ever get away, but it was so delicate that all he could do was cradle it. 

"I'm in love with you too. Don't you know that?" 

The whispering in his mind increased ten-fold, but it was muddled and confused. On the outside, her eyes were wide, almost disbelieving. Then, they flashed and she leaned forward with a sudden movement and pressed her lips against his. It was awkward at first and he wondered if she'd ever kissed anyone before. The idea of being the first thrilled him. He put his hand gently on the back of her head and guided her until their lips fit together and their tongues were free to slide against one another. 

By the time the kiss had ended, she had crawled up into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. Her breath was hot against his neck. 

"Scott?" 

"Hm?" 

She sat up and looked at him. "Do you want to make love to me?" 

All he could manage was: "Yeah." 

She smiled at him, and laid backwards, pulling him down with her for another kiss. 

Looking back on it, years later, he wondered if it was at that point that the professor had first invaded his mind unwelcome. That perhaps most of the trembling fear mixed with searing lust wasn't his own. 

The love kept him stable as the other thing, perhaps his own psychosis brought on by the years of abuse at the hands of "friends" and strangers, ravaged his mind. 

He wept tearlessly on her shoulder as they moved together and in his mind she whispered soothingly to him, the constant chant: _Scott, Scott, Scott_. The whisper grew to a roar: _SCOTT, SCOTT, SCOTT_; until it drowned out the other voice. It drowned out all of his fears and doubts and finally, he was left with just Jean and just Scott and just Love.

After, when they laid together spent, with their cores bared to each other, there was a tapping at the back of his mind and it made his stomach twist with guilt. 

**-7-**

Just before Jean had died, she'd spoken with the professor's voice and he nearly tried to kiss her through him. Instead, he somehow found himself in Logan's arms, weeping tearlessly on his shoulder. When he'd heard Logan's powerful voice broken by sadness, the grief became so real it cut into him. He jerked away from Logan like an angry child and stumbled back, letting himself fall onto the floor. When they tried to move him, he wouldn't budge. He sat, with his knees up and his face buried in those knees, shaking and sobbing right there in front of the students. 

He could feel the professor's disappointment in him surging through his mind. 

Logan's bullshit speech when they got back to the school didn't help either. It came off as less "she chose you" and more "I'm being the bigger man even though she really chose me." He hadn't been in the mood to say anything at the time, but that night, thinking back on it, he got out of his half-empty bed and stalked down to Logan's room. 

An arched eyebrow. "What do you want?" 

So, he'd pushed passed Logan (rather, Logan had let him push passed) and stood in the middle of his room with his hands on his hips. Logan watched him, obviously amused, but in a more muted way. Everything had been muted since Jean had died. 

When Scott found his voice he said, "You're wrong." 

"What else is new?" 

"She didn't choose me." 

Logan tipped his head to the side. "And... you came all the way to my room to tell me that." 

All of the righteous indignation that was holding Scott up drained away leaving him slumped, his hands falling to his sides. When he found his voice it was meager. "Yeah. That's... that's it." 

"Uh huh." Logan paused, then sighed. "Look, we all know you're having a hard time, all right?" 

"What are you going to do, give me a fucking pep talk?" 

"Heaven forbid anyone try to help you." 

Incredulous. "Help me? You?" 

"Yeah, me." 

Scott looked up to find Logan in his personal space. All amusement was gone from his expression making it completely unreadable, and his head was bowed down slightly so that the height difference was exaggerated and Logan had to look up from under those arched eyebrows. 

When Scott didn't speak, Logan spoke instead. "That's why you came here. Because I get it." 

"If that's what I wanted, I would have gone to the professor." 

"No you wouldn't have." 

"How do you know that?" 

"Because you're here." 

Scott couldn't argue anymore. He'd learned from the professor and then Jean that there are some people in the world that you just can't argue with because they're right and you're wrong. So, he leaned forward until he hit something hard which happened to be Logan's shoulder and Logan put his arms around him. 

It was awkward, but at that moment Scott couldn't think of anything more comforting. 

**-8-**

During the nightly (for the last three months) trek to Logan's room, the professor called Scott telepathically. He blushed a little like a school boy caught in the girl's dorms and scurried to Xavier's room. The door was open slightly and there was a faint scent coming from the room that Scott didn't recognize. Something herbal, perhaps. 

Scott slipped into the room soundlessly, except for the slight creaking of floor boards, and stood by the door. The professor was sitting in his wheelchair gazing out of the window as he often did when he was thinking. 

After a moment of silence, Xavier said, "I do not approve of this... arrangement you seem to have with Logan." 

"A-arrangement, Professor? I don't know what you're talking about." 

The professor turned his chair quickly and the motor whirred as he glided toward Scott. When he came to a stop he laced his fingers together and looked up at his protégé. "You don't lie to a telepath, Scott. I'm only concerned for you and Jean." 

In a rush of words he said, "It's not like you think..." But then he stopped and considered the professor's words. "And... Jean?" 

"You were never quite good enough for her, where you Scott? And now with Logan, you're proving exactly that." 

Scott moved his mouth, but no words came out, so the professor went on. 

"I loved her more than you could possibly know." His voice was deathly calm in a way that chilled Scott to the bone. In a way that was still soft and kind as the professor always was. "But, alas, I couldn't... fulfill her as a young man could. That's where you came in. But..." He paused, and Scott could feel that tapping in his mind, the whispering that was not quite the same as Jean's whispering had been. "You already knew that." 

And that's when Scott realized that he wasn't talking to the professor. 

**-5-**

The whispering. _Scott, I wish to speak with you._

He touched Jean's arm and kissed her on the temple. "The professor wants--" 

"I know." She smiled up at him. "I'll try to be awake when you get back, but no promises." 

He took a deep breath. Her skin was just-out-of-the-shower fresh and, despite everything, he wished he could just ignore the professor this once and stay with her. But the whispering came again, more insistently. 

_Scott._

Jean kissed him on the cheek. "You'd better go before he gets angry." 

"I know, I know. Coming, Professor." He stood straight and regretfully left Jean in their room alone. The professor's door was slightly open, as it always was when he called Scott, and Scott let himself in. And, as usual, he was by his window, staring out. 

"What was it you wanted, Professor?" 

"While I was in that catatonic state last week..." He turned his chair to face Scott. "I heard everything that you said." 

Scott thought back, something he'd been avoiding since the professor had come out of it unharmed and everything had become all right again. He wasn't one to just ignore things that bothered him, but the idea of losing the professor struck him to his very core. It wasn't something that he liked to even consider and he had suddenly come face-to-face with it. Now, he was just glad it was over. 

The professor watched him for a moment and Scott could feel him listening in on his thoughts. "You said that you would take care of things if something were to happen to me." 

"Of course. If it came to that. God forbid." 

"Yes, God forbid." Xavier laced his fingers together. "Do you think you're ready? Truly ready?" 

"I... would like to think so, sir. You've prepared me for it. But, you're still young. There's no reason to worry." Scott felt a surge of panic. Was there some terrible disease the professor was hiding? Would he have to face that terrible reality of losing the professor again? 

Xavier held up a hand. "There's no need to worry yourself, Scott. I'm perfectly healthy. Ask my doctor when you go back to your bedroom. This is simply a hypothetical question. If you needed to be ready, would you be?" 

"Truthfully?" Scott grasped his hands together behind his back and looked down, furrowing his brow. "When I was sitting next to you saying those things... I didn't feel ready. Not at all." 

When the professor was silent, Scott glanced up to see the expression on his face. 

Disappointment. 

"You may go, Scott." Xavier turned his chair away from him, leaving no room for protest. 

**-9-**

Scott raised his ruby quartz glasses and shot the professor in the chest. The professor was thrown back by the concussive energy and fell out of his wheelchair, curled on the floor like a child. Scott went to the body and stood over it. 

"Mystique. I know it's you. Show yourself." 

"You've always been... such a foolish boy." 

Scott knelt beside him and grabbed the front of his night shirt, lifting him up slightly. A stream of blood ran from Xavier's nose and dripped from his jaw. 

"Show yourself." 

There was a sound behind him and he dropped the professor, turning around as he stood to find Magneto standing in the doorway. 

"You've killed your professor." Magneto's voice was strangely tight. 

"You're working with Mystique." He gestured down at the professor. "I knew it. Where have you taken the professor?" 

Magneto took a step toward the professor and Scott side stepped, putting himself in between them. "The professor is right there and we should agree that if he isn't attended to, he will die." 

"If this isn't Mystique and you aren't working with her in a plot against us, then why are you here at all? Answer that." 

"He asked me here," Magneto growled. "When his girl died." 

Scott took off his ruby quartz glasses and blasted Magneto out of the door and into the wall in the hallway. 

"She wasn't his girl." 

**-11: The Epilogue-**

Logan leaned on the mantle, watching. 

"I know that Karen will do very well at our school. She's a very talented young lady, Mrs. Jerome." 

"Oh, thank you, Professor Summers. I don't know what we would have done without people like you." The woman looked toward the staircase as Karen descended, one bag over her shoulder and the other in her hands. At Scott's nod, Logan went to her, taking her things and carrying them out to the car. 

They joined him soon after. The girl was walking with her head down and her arms crossed. Mrs. Jerome watched from the doorway as the two men prepared to take her daughter away. Logan opened the passenger's door for Scott and picked him up out of his wheelchair, setting him carefully in the seat. The girl watched with wide, curious eyes as Logan set the folded wheelchair in the backseat next to her. 

After they had been driving for an hour in silence, the girl leaned forward in her seat. 

"Professor Summers? What happened to your--" 

"Sit back," Scott said. "And put your seatbelt on." 

Grudgingly, she did as she was told. Scott watched her in the rearview mirror, waiting until she was properly seated before speaking. 

"You were going to ask me something?" 

"Yeah. What happened to your legs?" 

Logan smirked over at Scott and rolled his eyes. Scott shook his head. That was always the first question. 

"There was an accident at the school a few years ago. My back was broken." 

"But they still let you be in charge?" 

"I wasn't in charge at the time." 

"But you were at the school?" 

Scott was quiet for a moment before he answered. "Yes. I was a student." 

"Who was in charge then?" 

Scott turned in his seat and gave the girl a penetrating look. Even blocked by those red shades, it was penetrating. 

"You ask so many questions." She just shrugged, so he went on. "The man in charge before me was Professor Xavier." 

"What happened to him?" 

"He was accidentally killed by a very powerful mutant." He turned back around in his seat and watched the road ahead of them. "That's why you need a teacher. So that you can learn how to control your power. And one day, if you're lucky, you'll surpass your teacher and become your own person." 

"Or maybe," Logan said in a quiet, gravely voice, "the student will just try to take the teacher's place." 

Professor Summers eyes remained fixed on the road. For a long moment, he didn't make a sound. Then, barely above a whisper: "Just drive, Logan." 

Karen leaned back against the car seat and was silent for the rest of the trip. She had a feeling she didn't want any more answers. 

_Fin_

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Thank you for reading. Feedback is appreciated.


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